Unbecoming a Hero
by Rana Kane
Summary: Hank regrets the mercy he showed Venger in The Dragons' Graveyard and wants a second chance to destroy his hated enemy. How far is he willing to go? What price is too high to pay for Venger's death?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Hank hadn't moved since he'd reached the ridge and crouched beside the boulder to survey Venger's castle and grounds. Above was a swirling mass, blacker than the enveloping night, spitting lightning in every direction and propelling a malodorous gale; below, a multitude of heavily armed and armored orcs guarding the castle's perimeter and gates.

Venger had their weapons. Again. How many times did this make? he wondered. He stopped himself from actually counting.

Hank prided himself in usually being reserved in his emotions, but at the moment, he could not quell the unbidden and poisonous sentiments swelling in his mind. Shame, anger, fear, regret — if there were a single word to encompass these. . . . But then, there was.

_I am a failure!_

He was tired of feeling the weight of the Realm on his shoulders, tired of being responsible for his friends' very lives. And every failure at Venger's hands, every setback, returned his mind to his fateful choice in the Dragons' Graveyard. He was tired of that one moment in his life reliving itself over and over, both in his dreams and waking thoughts. He'd come to the conflicted conclusion that doing what was right wasn't always the right thing to do.

He looked from the sinister sky above to the menacing orcs below and tried to figure their number. He tried not to think of the added stench of so many massed together and sweating from the heat of their torches in the already warm, dank air.

_Must be every goddamned orc under his command in the entire realm!_

He spied Shadow Demon among the horde, and the hand that would have held his bow clenched. Even from such a distance, there was no mistaking Venger's most cunning minion. The floating black figure was here, then there; would rise, then fall; would vanish, then reappear.

Hank had never given much thought to shadows back home, but here, he had developed the annoying habit of doing a double-take at even his own shadow out of sheer paranoia. If he'd learned anything while in the Realm, it was that constant vigilance was exhausting . . . and that he hated shadows.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Presto rise to peer down from the ridge where the rest of the group were all hunkered down, and then turn and sink back to the ground.

"It's hopeless," he heard him say. "I hate to say it, guys, but I think Venger's finally won."

"Don't say that, Presto," he heard Sheila whisper to him.

_I should have done it. I should have finished you, there and then._

"Face it! It's over! Why are Presto and I the only ones who can see that?" Eric said, as loudly as he dared, in that angry and defeated tone that he was known for — a tone Hank despised; it only made him have to work harder to rally them to face whatever crisis lay before them.

"It's not over, Eric!" said Bobby. "Is it?"

Hank knew Bobby had turned to him with the question, though he hadn't taken his eyes from the castle.

_No, Bobby, it isn't._

It was easy to answer to himself. He couldn't, however, bring himself to say it out loud. He wouldn't give any of them false hope. Not even Bobby. Not this time. Instead, he envisioned Venger within the castle.

He had to be alone. Shadow Demon would be with him, if anyone, he reasoned. Yes, alone with his prizes. He would not share his moment of triumph. That was his reason for so many orcs, meticulously supervised by his most trusted servant. It had to be. He wanted privacy.

But how confident was he? What added precautions might he have taken, if any? Could Venger be so preoccupied, so quick to assume unchallenged victory, that he could have overlooked a vulnerability and left an opening? There had to be something, some way.

"We've gotten out of tight spots before, right?" said Diana, obviously trying to sound optimistic.

Disheartening silence answered her, but Hank's mind ignited at her words. They _had_ always gotten out of tight spots before. He had actually come to count on it. It was as though they were in a game they weren't meant to lose — yet weren't meant to win, either.

"She's right. Venger's taken our weapons before, and we've always gotten them back. Why should this time be any different?" said Presto, in an equally obvious attempt to revive spirits.

Too obvious, Hank thought. He knew Eric was about to shoot him down. He never passed up a chance to spout off at the mouth.

"Oh, come on! Do the math, guys: a gazillion orcs, six of us, and zero weapons! You tell me!"

Cue Diana.

"You're a lot of help, Eric, you know that?" she said.

So predictable.

"And we're _seven_, Eric! Uni counts, too!" said Bobby.

"Meeyeah!" Uni sounded in agreement.

"Oh, _please_," Eric retorted. "What's she gonna do? Slobber on them?"

"What _are_ we going to do, Hank?" asked Sheila.

_Uni . . . ._ Hank's mind lit up at the thought of the unicorn. A dim light, just a spark really, but at least his mind was working on something potentially productive. Trying _anything_ was better than doing nothing. If Uni could get him inside. . . . If he could have another chance. . . .

"Hank?"

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see Sheila's fearful eyes in the flashes of lightning. It broke the hold of his mind's dark designs; more than that, it reminded him that he wasn't alone. And it reminded him where his strength came from.

_Sheila._

"Hank? Are you with us?" she asked, smiling nervously. "You haven't given up, have you?"

He found he was even able to smile, just for her, only for her. "Not a chance." He looked again to the castle. "I have an idea, but it's risky."

"See, Eric? I knew he'd think of something!" Bobby then turned to Hank, all confidence restored. "Just tell us what to do, Hank."

"What all of you can do is stay here where it's safe. As safe as safe gets, anyway," he answered.

"What do you mean, Hank?" asked Diana.

"I'm going to get our weapons back."

"Alone?" said Sheila, wide-eyed. "You can't!"

"I won't be completely alone." Hank looked at Uni as she stood at Bobby's side. Rather, he was looking at her horn.

Uni shrank behind Bobby, as though she knew what Hank was thinking.

Everyone shared disbelieving looks as they realized what he was planning.

"Well, I always knew he was crazy, but I didn't know he was _suicidal_," said Eric. Then he turned to Hank. "And to drag an innocent little unicorn down with you. . . ."

That got Eric a round of disdainful glares, but they all held their tongues. This wasn't a time to get pulled into yet another argument with the Cavalier.

Diana sighed. "Eric does have a point, Hank. You can't take on Venger alone and unarmed."

"And what about Uni?" Bobby asked. He was crouched with a protective arm around the little unicorn. "What if something happens to her?"

Hank spoke directly to Uni. "I can't make you do this, Uni. It's your choice. Venger has our weapons, and you're my only hope of getting inside and trying to get them back."

There was a loud crack, and the sky began to glow a dull and ominous crimson.

Looking up, Hank added, "And time is running out . . . not just for us, but for the entire realm." _Yes_, he thought, _for the entire realm. If only I'd been thinking of that in the Graveyard when I could have killed him!_

New guilt crashed atop old as he thought of how selfish he'd been to have let Venger live just to prove he was better than Venger. Just to make a dramatic show for his friends. Just to make Venger have to live with the fact that he'd been beaten by him. He remembered how it had felt to release Venger. How superior . . . how _smug_. He had felt like a sheriff in a Western who had just shot the hat off some low-down, would-be cattle thief and warned him never to come back to his town again. He could hear Venger's voice in his mind: _Fool!_

He watched Uni intently, willing her to agree and trying to shut out the part of him that regretted giving her the choice.

Uni looked around at everyone, as if, quite possibly, for the last time. But she seemed to understand the direness of their situation. She looked back at Bobby, licked him on the cheek, and then stepped away from him to stand at Hank's side. She looked up at him and nodded.

Hank smiled at her. "Thank you, Uni. I know you can do it." He then turned to Bobby. "I'll do my best to get her out of there, Bobby, no matter what. I promise."

Bobby nodded, weakly, in answer.

Suddenly, Sheila grabbed Hank's arm. "But what if she can't get you in? What if it goes wrong? What if something really bad happens to you? What are we going to do?"

"It's a chance we have to take!" Hank said, immediately regretting his tone. _And, who knows? You all might be better off if something really bad did happen to me._

In the strobing lightning, he saw the tears welled in her eyes. He took her hand and stroked her hair. He wanted to say so much, knew this might be his last chance, but couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he released her and spoke to them all.

"No one comes for me. If I don't make it back, there probably won't be a me to rescue, anyway. I don't want any of you getting yourselves killed on my account."

Everyone stared at him in shocked silence, as though the danger hadn't truly hit home for them until now.

"Oh, Hank." Now, Sheila wept openly. Diana put an arm around her.

Eric stepped forward and faced Hank. "You're . . . you're really gonna do this?"

"Yes, I am," Hank answered, firmly.

He was amused, in a disdainful sort of way, at the look of surprise on Eric's face. It was like he couldn't imagine someone's risking all for others. But then Eric's expression changed, and the two of them looked at each other for a meaningful moment, words unnecessary, and there was understanding.

"You take care of your end, Hank. We'll take care of ours," Eric said, all contentiousness gone.

Hank gave him an approving nod. Despite his feelings about Eric, he at least knew Eric was capable of rising to the task of taking over as leader. He'd heard from everyone the story of how Eric had taken charge and led the rescue when he had been taken prisoner by the Darkling. Hank couldn't help but be impressed, not to mention thankful, with his heroic action.

Hank had always imagined Diana as becoming their leader if anything ever happened to him. She was more mature than Eric, more intelligent, more daring. The list went on. There were times he wanted to appoint her leader just to release himself from the responsibility. She was just as in tune with everyone's talents and skills as he was, he felt.

But what would all the skills in the world matter if they didn't have their weapons?

It was time to go. He crouched closely beside Uni, and placed a hand on her back. "Whenever you're ready," he whispered.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Her horn began to glow with the teleportational magic natural to her kind. Soon, they both faded from sight.

* * *

Leaving Uni to wait where they'd appeared just inside the castle's immense doors, Hank immediately began to follow the familiar and dreaded reverberating voice as it intoned in a language he didn't understand. Whatever Venger was attempting to do with the weapons, it was probably about to happen. He hoped he could find him before he could complete his spell.

He ran blindly through doorways and corridors, unadorned and monotonous with their evenly spaced torches. He ran up spiral stairways, his legs aching horribly with the effort, but the sound of his enemy's voice told him he must continue the ascent.

Louder and louder, Venger's powerful voice resounded throughout the castle, making it hard to determine exactly which way it was coming from. Louder and louder. It was everywhere. It was pressing in on him. He felt the pressure of Venger's every syllable pounding against his temples, beating against his chest. His skin prickled and tingled, and he was sure his feet and hands were going numb.

Louder, still. It was inside his head now. He was shaking. Lightning flashed through every window. Torch fires blurred in his watery eyes. He felt on the verge of hopeless disorientation, close to losing consciousness.

_No! I can't give up! I won't fail them again! I won't fail_ her _again!_

He threw his hands to his ears, and raced through the castle, sweat pouring down his face and neck. Rounding a corner on what had to be the castle's uppermost floor, he saw a light quite different than that of fire or lightning. An ethereal glow spilled out of an open archway at the far end of the corridor. A blinding flash, and then the light illuminated the whole of the broad hallway. He ran for it, but then slowed, trying to process what he next saw. He shook his head and blinked against the brightness.

Strange, glowing, ghostlike weapons were beginning to separate from the solid ones piled on an altar before Venger.

And then he realized Venger wasn't chanting anymore.

_This is it! Move!_ he commanded himself.

Summoning all his remaining strength, he sprinted forward and leapt for their weapons.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Venger wanted no distractions. He had waited too long for this moment. Shadow Demon had his orders, and every orc not needed elsewhere in the realm had been recalled for the single task of guarding the castle. Now, he dared not delay. He could not give Dungeon Master's pupils time to act.

The incantations were ready in his mind, having been burned into his being so very long ago, and would flow from him as naturally as a breath's release. Thus, he was ever prepared. This was what he was meant to do, created to do. This, and more. It was time to show Dungeon Master what mastery of the Realm truly meant.

With a wave of his hand, the one hundred candles on their stands flamed along the circular stone wall. A breeze wafted through; the room was windowless, but without a ceiling, as well. His altar, as ever, was waiting. He set the weapons there in a colorful heap.

He looked at them, smiling. The smile left him, however, as he caught sight of one tip of the Ranger's bow. He moved the cloak aside to reveal it, and then took it up. He held it a moment, wishing his possession of it signified the Ranger's demise.

Alas, it did not. He was out there, somewhere. Venger wondered where the leader of Dungeon Master's pupils was and what he was doing.

"Without this, you are nothing, Ranger. _Nothing!_"

He returned the bow to the pile, but his hand lingered. He then snatched up the Thief's cloak and turned away from the weapons. He would not look at the Thief's weapon as he crushed it in the fingers of both hands.

His gaze was unfocused as he brought the neck of it to his nose and breathed deeply. He lifted his head slowly, feeling the fabric as it glided down his face. Then, with an aggrieved suddenness, he flung the cloak behind him to land atop the weapons.

He looked up at the night sky with its bright, sparkling stars and snarled. He raised his hands, and clouds began to gather.

This was only the beginning, he reminded himself. These were only six of the thirteen Objects of Power. Soon, he would have them all. A succession of victories awaited him.

The power of these weapons would be added to his own, and he would crush the young pupils of Dungeon Master!

Tiamat would perish in her graveyard amongst the bones of her kin, and he would claim the remaining weapons and use them to further increase his power!

Dungeon Master would then be at his mercy. At last, the old one would fall and the Realm would be his!

He could see it all. It would begin here, in this room and with these weapons. Total mastery was within his grasp. The Realm was on the cusp of a new era.

He held out his arms, closed his eyes, and turned his face to the now blackened sky above. He began in whisper — calling, creating, centering. The only thing that threatened him now was his own excitement and impatience. He channeled these energies into his voice, giving it a power all its own. The vibration within and without caressed him, inciting him to increasing volumes. He exulted in the power racing through him, and from him to the weapons, preparing them to enter their new host.

There was a flash as the energies were reaved from their former vessels, separated from them, leaving them useless husks. It was nearly done. Pure power. He reached an arm out toward them, willing them to come to him. They were his now, and this was a moment he vowed to relish and remember until the end — if there were such a thing for one such as he.

But then, a rushing footfall, and a blur of tan and green seemed to slow time to a crawl.

_The Ranger!_

"No!" He shot out a hand from which red energies coruscated toward the intruder, who would have been reduced to cinders that Venger would gladly have presented personally to the Ranger's friends — especially the frail little Thief — had not his aim been off by the slightest degree.

Instead, the Ranger crashed onto the altar, and Venger was forced to shield himself against an explosion of magics.

When he opened his eyes, all was dark and cold. The candles were out, the lightning had ceased, and the thick black clouds still blocked the moonlight. He looked quickly about the room, his sight unhindered by the lack of light. He lifted the weapon closest to him — the club.

Nothing. Its power was not there.

He looked down at the Ranger's prone body. He still lived. Venger could hear the heartbeat he craved to silence. A numbing rage coursed through him, threatening to render him impotent in the moment when he most wanted to act. He fought to control himself. No games. He focused on one thought alone: Kill the Ranger.

"At least I will have the satisfaction of your death this night, Ranger."

He stepped closer, black static orbs already forming around his hands.

Shadow Demon suddenly rushed in.

"Mas—!"

Venger punched him back through countless walls, never taking his eyes from the boy lying helplessly before him. Then he roared and raised his arms to unleash his wrath upon his hated enemy.

Faster than should have been possible, the Ranger twisted toward him, eyes ablaze, and unleashed a volley of powerful arrows from his fingertips. Unprepared for such an attack, Venger was slammed against the wall, knocking candle stands to the floor.

Clutching his burning chest, he looked up in time to see the Ranger throw himself upright and quickly close the distance between them with two acrobatic flips. As he landed, he brought a ghostlike club crashing down upon Venger's skull before he could stop it.

For a moment, Venger saw double as his crushed eyes regained their shape and his features righted. The searing pain let him do no more than crawl, but it was toward his enemy he went as he was more determined than ever to destroy him. He growled as the energies he gathered healed him rather than obeyed his command to kill.

Finally, Venger was able to push himself up from the floor just before the Ranger's next attack, this time with the javelin, met his ribs. He was thrown, spinning through the air. He crashed again against a wall. More candle stands fell atop him.

Venger recovered more quickly this time. He rolled onto his back and fired one bright red bolt after another at his attacker, all of which were effortlessly blocked. Each impact illuminated a ghost of the Cavalier's shield that protected him.

Venger rose and roared, "This cannot be!"

He threw out his hands once more, but his enemy had vanished. Without hesitation, he shot deadly rays randomly about, bringing down the walls around him. He stopped after a time, rose, and looked about the rubble. Dust fell and smoke rose. Aside from these, all was still and silent. But his supernatural senses were keen. The Ranger was here, he was certain of that. But where? He took one tentative step forward.

Suddenly, the Ranger appeared right before him, causing Venger to flinch and step back. For a brief moment only, he was able to wonder at the stillness of the figure before him — the expressionless face of his enemy like an avenging angel in living stone.

Then, his enemy reached up toward his head and summoned a globe of golden light. It burst into a flurry of glowing flecks that attached themselves to Venger's body, wings and all.

He struggled futilely to brush them off. And then, one by one, they began exploding. Thousands of explosions of magical fire stung him in rapid succession.

When finally it was over, Venger lay on his side, eyes open but paralyzed. The Ranger was gone, as were the weapons.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Sheila, Eric, Diana, Presto, and Bobby all had their eyes riveted on Venger's castle, looking for any sign of Hank or Uni from their vantage point up on the ridge. Sheila could feel her heart pounding. The waiting was horrible. All she could think of was what she would do if only she had her cloak.

She would hold it tightly about herself and squeeze her way through the crowded orcs. As close as they were, they wouldn't know they weren't bumping into one another. Then, she'd find a way in. Where, she didn't know, but she'd find it. She'd sneak past Venger, or distract him somehow, and help Hank and Uni escape any way she could.

But she didn't have her cloak, and she knew that even if she did, the chances were slim they'd make it out. It simply wouldn't be enough. She decided she'd offer the cloak to Venger in exchange for their freedom. She didn't like that thought, but she knew it was the truth.

She suddenly felt stupid for even thinking these things. She didn't have anything to help them or to bargain with. She wished she could come up with an idea that would actually help, rather than fantasizing about the impossible.

"I wish we knew what was going on in there," said Diana.

"Wouldn't do us any good," Eric reminded them. "Without our weapons, there's nothing we can do but wait."

"At least the lightning stopped," said Bobby.

"I just hope that's a _good_ sign," said Presto.

Sheila was mute with worry. She looked at everyone around her, imagining them going on without Hank. The thought was difficult to bear, but she couldn't stop herself from considering the possibility of their leaving here without him and Uni. What would happen to them? They would stay together, surely. Wouldn't they?

And what if Venger came after them to get revenge for all the times they'd defeated him? Her heart jumped as she thought of the time when she'd used the powerful rings of heart and mind to send Venger away. He surely would want revenge on her for that. There would be no place to hide. No place in the entire realm. No place on Earth.

_Revenger._ Sheila shivered.

She turned her eyes back to Venger's castle, the orcs that surrounded it, and Shadow Demon, who glided back and forth from one end of the castle to the other. She tried hard to watch everything at once — hoping, dreading.

She was momentarily distracted, however, when several orcs began fighting near the center of the mass. She saw one of the captains heading toward the pair, but it would take him time to get there. Surely, Shadow Demon would get there first, she thought. She looked for the shadowy figure. Then she squinted, her eyes searching faster.

_Where did he go?_

She gasped, and her hand shot to her mouth. _What if . . . ?_

She wanted so desperately to know what was happening inside. She wished she could warn Hank, if he wasn't captured already, but it was as Eric had said. There was nothing they could do but wait.

"Something is definitely happening in there," said Diana. "Are you guys seeing those flashes?"

Presto squinted. "I . . . I think so."

The orcs were beginning to stir, looking all around, and then they closed their ranks around the castle.

"Oh, no!" said Sheila. "They know!"

"I can't watch," Presto said, averting his eyes.

Just then, there was flash none could miss. It was accompanied by the shocking boom of the castle's great doors' being blown apart. Orcs were thrown by the blast, and splintered wood rained down on them.

"It's Hank! It's gotta be!" said Sheila.

Eric was standing now. "Yeah, but where?"

"Does anyone see Uni?" Bobby asked.

The scene below was chaotic. More torches were being lit amongst the heaving sea of orc green. Orders were bellowed out. Orcs began running into the castle, behind the castle, and fanning out beyond the castle grounds.

"Uh, guys?" Presto said. "I think some are coming our way."

"We gotta get out of here," said Eric.

Sheila jumped up and grabbed his arm. "What about Hank? We can't just leave him!"

"And I'm not going anywhere without Uni!" added Bobby.

"Take another look!" Eric said, pointing for emphasis. "Do you really think Hank could fight his way out of _that_? Even if he did get the weapons back, he can't fight all of them. And Uni can't get him out, either! I say we run for it like Hank told us!"

Bobby stomped his way to Eric and poked a finger in his gut. "Yeah, you would run for it, wouldn't you, Eric?" He turned the same finger to himself. "Well, _I'm_ no coward, and _I'm_ not leaving them behind!"

Diana came to stand beside Eric. "No, Bobby. Eric's right. We never actually saw Hank or Uni. Hank would want us to try to escape. There's nothing else we can do. We're defenseless without our weapons."

Sheila turned away from them to look below. Still no Hank, and the orcs were coming. "Oh, Hank. Where are you?" she whispered through her tightening throat.

Suddenly, a blur of white and orange streaked by, heading straight for Bobby. She heard a familiar bleat as it jumped and knocked the boy over.

"Uni! You made it!" Bobby shouted.

There were suddenly shouts of "There!" and "Up there!" from various orcs.

"Oops," Bobby said apologetically.

"This way, everyone! There's too many of them to fight," Hank shouted from behind them.

"Hank!" Sheila shouted with joy.

"All right!" Diana and Presto shouted together.

"You heard him. Let's move!" said Eric.

They all ran for Hank, catching their weapons as he tossed them their way.

* * *

"Water," Eric gasped. "Wa–Water."

Everyone stopped and collapsed to the ground in the middle of a grove. The first sun was rising, and there was finally no sign of pursuing orcs.

"Good to . . . have the . . . ol' hat back," said Presto, panting. "One round of waters . . . coming up."

He reached inside his hat . . . and then reached a little more. "Hey! Nothing's happening!"

Alarmed, Hank rose and watched as everyone began testing their weapons, each with the same result. _But. . . ._

"I don't understand," Hank said, and tried his bow.

"If the weapons don't have their powers, then that means—" said Diana.

"Venger's got them!" Bobby finished for her.

_But. . . ._

"Wait, if Venger's got all that power, how did Hank escape?" asked Presto.

Hank turned his back and stepped away from them, trying to piece together what had happened. He frantically searched his memory, and came to a frightening discovery. He couldn't remember exactly _what_ had happened.

"Why not ask the man of the hour?" said Eric. He moved toward Hank. "Well, Hank, what happened?"

Sheila stepped between them. "Give him a break, Eric. How could he have known Venger had already taken their powers? He did his best."

"No," said Hank, shaking his head.

Sheila went over to him. "It's not your fault, Hank. You _did_ get our weapons back. You couldn't have known—"

"No. You don't understand. That's not what happened. Venger didn't take their powers. I–I know he didn't." Hank tried to clear his head and concentrate. He gripped his bow and stared at it, willing something of the ordeal to come to him.

"Hank, he must have," Sheila insisted. "He must have done it before you got there."

"No. You're not listening!" _Did I just yell at Sheila?_

"Well, _I'm_ listening! What happened, Hank? We're all dying to know," Eric said.

Anger swelled within Hank, threatening to break the surface of his control. He fought to keep that control. He didn't feel himself.

"Do you remember anything?" asked Diana. "I mean, you've got to remember _something_."

"Shu— Be quiet, all of you! Just . . . let me think." For a moment, he remained silent, and he was glad the others were finally doing the same. How could he remember _anything_ if they didn't give him time to _think_!

Then, Uni walked across to him, nudged his hand, and looked up at him with concerned eyes. Hank sat at the base of a tree with his back to everyone and stroked her mane. He found that the more he stroked, the closer he felt to remembering. Flashes of memory sparked and faded like fireworks — vivid for an instant, but easily forgotten with the flash of the next display. He couldn't hold to any one image.

But he did suddenly remember a feeling.

Gratification. Intense gratification. Thrilling satisfaction. His could feel his heart start to pound, and he realized he was sitting there, smiling to himself. He took the smile from his face before anyone saw. Now he raised a hand and studied it.

_What did I do? How did I do it?_

He looked up, wide-eyed, and was glad his back was to everyone. He suddenly felt cold, and his mouth was dry. Surely, the crazy thought that had just occurred to him couldn't be true. What would his friends think, if it was? And what was he supposed to do about it?

"Ranger?" Dungeon Master said from an upper branch.

Hank looked up, and Dungeon Master jumped down.

"Dungeon Master! Are we glad to see you!" Presto said.

Their guide held up a hand to quiet them as he approached their leader. Uni respectfully retreated.

For a moment, neither spoke. Dungeon Master had a way about him that had no need of words. It was something he usually respected in their old guide, but today, it was different. He felt like the old man was going to ground him for taking the car without permission. Who did he think he was, his _father_? He hated how his expression was telling him to own up to his friends, like he was a child who'd taken all the treats that were meant for the whole class to share.

Fine, he'd do this his way, just to get him off his back.

Hank rose and turned to face his friends. They would find out sooner than later, anyway. Might as well confess. Besides, it wasn't like he'd meant for this to happen. Even so, this wasn't going to be easy.

_Well, out with it already._ "I took our weapons' powers."

It was obvious by their expressions that that was the last thing they were expecting him to say. Stunned silence all around.

Naturally, it was Eric who recovered the quickest and opened his mouth.

"OK, no problem, right?" he said, looking around at everyone and nodding like an idiot. "Dungeon Master's here." He went and knelt beside Dungeon Master, putting an arm around his back. "You can put the powers back where they belong, right, DM ol' buddy?"

The "ol' buddy" act had never been more annoying. Hank forced himself to look away when he realized how he was glaring at Eric.

"No, Cavalier, I cannot," replied their guide. "Only the Ranger can return the powers to your weapons."

"Well, OK then, Hank, make with the powers," he said, rising and holding his shield out at him.

Hank felt like knocking it out of his hands, but he settled for Diana's nudging him hard in the ribs.

"What!" Eric yelled defensively.

Diana gave him a silencing look in response.

This was going to be trouble. It wasn't right. He knew it. They all knew it.

"Isn't there anything you can do, Dungeon Master? I don't know how I got the powers in the first place, and I don't know how to give them back, either," said Hank.

Dungeon Master remained silent and expressionless for a moment as he regarded the Ranger. He was studying him, and Hank found he did not care for it at all.

"Beware, my child . . . of losing more than you have ever gained."

To this, Hank said nothing, but inwardly, his reply was loud and clear: _Save it!_

Dungeon Master looked away from Hank at last. Then, he bowed his head and stepped somberly behind the tree. Hank didn't have to wonder if he'd emerge on the other side.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Venger lay dormant on a bed of bare and softly glowing amaranthine stone in the center of a dirt floor in the black bowels of his castle, his eyes closed and his hands open and limp at his sides. It was not truly sleep. Venger was not unaware; he was not defenseless. And he had not dreamed since. . . . And it was not truly pain. True pain was something he had not felt since he could dream.

He sensed Shadow Demon's presence, hovering over him, and knew that the creature was speaking. Venger ignored him. He didn't want to hear it, whatever it was. He needed rest. He had expended so much of himself in his efforts to claim the weapons' powers, and then so much more had been taken with the Ranger's sudden and powerful attack.

But he could not rest. Not after suffering what was, without doubt, the most humiliating defeat he had ever in his existence sustained. Worse, even, than when the Thief had single-handedly dispatched him with his hated twin sister as witness.

He felt a shadowy touch to his face, his shoulder, his chest. His agitation at this nearly had him rising to throttle the demon for daring such violation. But then he was gone, and Venger allowed himself to slip more deeply into that restful state.

* * *

The look in Dungeon Master's eyes when he had turned from Hank to her haunted Sheila as she walked at the back of the group. He had looked more than concerned, like he was trying to tell her something. And he had looked at _her_, and her alone.

She knew there had been meaning in his eyes, but that meaning was no clearer after a few hours' sleep. She looked around. The day was so bright and beautiful. They should all be talking and laughing, she thought. But all was so quiet. There was no sound of wind in the trees, and she didn't even see or hear any birds in the sky. Everything felt so _off_. She had the feeling of being alone yet watched at the same time, and she hugged her arms around herself.

Just in front of her were Eric and Presto. She didn't like Eric's fidgeting. It was giving her a bad feeling. She hoped he wasn't about to make a bad situation worse.

"I can't believe we're just going on our merry way like nothing's happened!" Eric whispered emphatically to Presto.

"Beats sitting around waiting for Venger to find us," Presto replied.

"Yeah, well, I feel like an idiot carrying this useless shield around. What good are our weapons if Hank won't give up their powers?"

Sheila couldn't hold her tongue upon hearing this. "That's not fair, Eric. It's not like he's keeping them on purpose. He didn't mean for this to happen. I'm sure he's thinking of a way to give the powers back right now."

"Oh, yeah? I wouldn't count on it. I bet he likes having all those powers. I bet he _could_ give them back right now, if he really wanted to, but _I don't think he does_."

"I was surprised _you_ didn't want to keep _Dungeon Master's_ powers," said Presto.

Eric hesitated. "That was different."

Presto looked over at him with an expression of genuine interest. "How?"

Eric rolled his eyes. "Hey, this isn't about me. It's about _him_," he said, pointing toward Hank.

Sheila abruptly stopped and went wide-eyed when she saw that Hank had stopped and turned around. He faced Eric with a look that made Sheila wish she could disappear underneath her cloak. She had seen him angry before, but this . . . this look was different. It was more of an expression — and stance, even — that she expected of Venger. He had that same intimidating imperiousness. It made him look older and taller and powerful.

Oblivious as ever, Eric stopped only when he walked his accusatory finger into Hank's chest. He then slowly faced forward and gulped. With a sheepish grin, he smoothed Hank's tunic.

Hank swatted the hand away, and Eric recoiled behind his shield.

"One more word out of you, and it will be your last," Hank told him.

_That_ wasn't Hank. These were words Venger might use — and even spoken as Venger might say them — and Sheila couldn't help but hear his words repeated in Venger's voice within her mind.

No one said a word. They just stood there, aghast, looking from Eric to Hank until, finally, Hank turned back around and started walking again.

Sheila let out a quiet sigh of relief, but it was cut off as she noticed Eric's straightening and looking around at everyone. Inwardly, she begged him not to provoke Hank further. But she recognized his posturing and knew that his sense of bravado was about to get the better of him.

"What're ya gonna do, huh? Sew my mouth shut?"

"Eric, don't. . . ," said Sheila, quietly pleading yet knowing full well it wouldn't do any good.

"Somebody needs to," Bobby told him, hefting his club over a shoulder. "Right, Uni?" But Uni was keeping low behind him.

"That's not nice, Bobby," Sheila told him. She had wanted to take a firmer tone with her little brother, but didn't want to contribute to the uneasy situation.

"Aw, sis. I wanna see Hank _really_ shut Eric up!"

"Oh yeah? Well, how do you like this?" said Eric, and he snatched Bobby's club from him and tossed it. "Go fetch!"

"Hey!" Bobby yelled as he ran to get his club with Uni right behind him.

"It's only a _stick_ now, anyway," Eric muttered.

Hank turned back around at this, narrowed his eyes, and raised a hand level with Eric's face.

Eric faltered at first, but quickly regained his composure and watched Hank, as everyone did, waiting for whatever he was going to do.

"Go ahead, Hank. Do something! I dare ya!"

Sheila felt put on the spot; she knew Eric was only emboldened by everyone's presence, particularly hers. She knew, as she was sure everyone else did, that Hank always did his best to impress her, to be the good guy, especially since the incident in the Dragons' Graveyard. And she was aware that she did the same to impress him. And here was Eric, taunting Hank in front of her. She couldn't predict how this was going to turn out.

She watched now as Hank's eyes began to glow with an undulating whiteness; his hand glowed a soft golden light and crackled with sapphire static charges.

"Wow! Cool!" said Bobby, stepping around for a closer look. Then he eyed Eric with a smug grin. "You're gonna get it now, Eric!"

Diana took Bobby's shoulders and eased him out of Hank's reach. Uni had gotten in front of him to move him back at the same time. Sheila felt guilty at being thankful for that small favor. She didn't want to think Hank capable of actually hurting any one of their group, but "safe" wasn't a term she could apply to them at the moment.

Presto cringed beside her and starting backing away. "Nice knowing ya, Eric."

Eric stepped back, trembling, and held out a hand in a pitiful effort to hold Hank off as he stepped toward him. "Wh-Whoa, wait a minute. . . . Can't we talk this over?"

"Hank, . . . you wouldn't," Diana began worriedly.

"Aw, c'mon. He deserves it."

"Bobby!" Sheila scolded her little brother, but she knew he was about as unstoppable as Eric. She didn't know what to do. She wished Dungeon Master were there. He was surely the best one to handle this situation.

"Move," she thought she heard Hank say.

"Wha—?" said Eric.

"I said, 'move'!" Hank shoved him out of the way.

Just then, Shadow Demon rose up in the distance and shouted, "Ignore the others! Take the Ranger!"

Sheila twisted around and gasped as orcs rushed at them in a semicircle.

With a wave of his hand, Hank spread a floor of ice underneath the orcs. He then raised both arms over his head and brought down the club hard upon the ground, cracking the ice beneath them. Orcs slipped, fell, bounced, skidded and crashed into one another.

Sheila was knocked down by the shock wave, as were Presto and Eric. Hank reached down, lifted her, and slung her behind him.

"Run! It's me he wants!"

"But, Hank—!"

"Go!"

Sheila hesitated, but then ran. The others followed suit.

"This is nuts! If our weapons worked, we wouldn't be running away like a bunch of cowards!" Eric said.

"Like this is new to _you_!" Diana said.

"Gimme a break! Who're we running from, anyway? The orcs or Hank?" Eric shot back.

That hit a nerve with Sheila, and she almost stopped dead in her tracks. The memory of the look in Dungeon Master's eyes flashed at the front of her mind. Without a word to the others, she ran back for Hank.

When she made it back, she froze at the scene before her. She continued slowly forward, passing the bodies of at least half a dozen dead orc soldiers, lying twisted and torn here and there. One had been impaled by a long, sharp shard of ice. She didn't dare look fully at any of them. She could tell a few of the bodies lay in unnatural positions with their blood pooled underneath them.

But they were forgotten when she saw Shadow Demon. He was twisting and pulling and straining against a rope-like energy that tethered him to Hank. Hank stood like a child holding the string of a black helium balloon — a balloon that was struggling to be free.

Then Hank reeled him in. When Shadow Demon realized what was happening, he ceased trying to flee and turned to attack Hank. He drew back shadowy claws and struck as quick as lightning. Hank was faster, however. He shot an arrow from his hand that pierced the see-through hand. But it hadn't stopped there. The arrowhead protruded from the back of the demon's head, and Shadow Demon shrieked in a way that made Sheila tremble to her core. She looked away and reflexively grabbed her stomach. She felt like she was going to be sick from the sound.

When she did look again, Shadow Demon was trapped in a fast-shrinking bubble. And Hank still held the arrow that penetrated the demon's body. She saw the shadowy tail thrashing furiously yet futilely.

Sheila wanted to speak, but she was too awed by the sight. No matter what Shadow Demon had ever done to them, no matter what he was, she wanted Hank to set him free. She couldn't believe he was doing this. It was like it wasn't really happening, like she wasn't really there.

"What do you want of me?" Shadow Demon said in a voice full of desperation.

"Venger. Where is Venger?" In stark contrast to Shadow Demon's voice, Hank's voice was even and controlled. It sounded so threatening, even deadly.

"I . . . came alone . . . brought the orcs!" His voice was so strained that it did not sound like his at all.

"Where is he? Call him here," Hank demanded.

"I . . . cannot."

"Liar! Bring him to me, now, and I'll let you go."

"Now . . . who . . . lies?"

Hank responded by sending a blinding bolt of lightning up the arrow's shaft. It passed through the bubble's surface and built up inside Shadow Demon's head before exploding. The bubble burst, and bits of shadowy shreds fell like confetti around Hank. He caught a piece from the air and looked at it before rubbing it into nothingness in his fingertips.

All had fallen silent. Sheila hadn't realized the drone of powerful energies until it was gone. The air itself seemed thinner now.

Finally, she found her voice, weak though it was.

"Hank?"

* * *

Venger sat up suddenly, abruptly brought out of his slumber by an explosion of mental onslaught. He had the feeling of being under attack, but all was dark and quiet within his keep.

Something was different. Something had _changed_. And then he knew.

_Shadow Demon!_

An instant later, he was gone.

* * *

Sheila stared at Hank's back. The others came to stand around her. Bits of squiggling shadow faded away at their feet.

"What happened?" asked Presto.

For a few seconds, no one said anything. Then Bobby shouted triumphantly, "Hank killed Shadow Demon! All right!"

He started to run for Hank, but Sheila caught him and held him fast. It took all her strength to do so. He seemed about to protest when they heard a familiar voice which reached them before the source itself did.

"You have destroyed my servant! You will pay!"

And with him came a storm. The sky darkened as clouds gathered, wind roared, and lightning flashed.

Venger stopped above Hank, glaring down at him with fangs bared. Something caught his eye, and he looked to the ground. Hank looked down, too. Sheila could see one last little black piece of shadow squirming on the ground before Hank. She watched as Hank looked up at Venger just before he stomped on it and gave it one last twist with his boot.

Venger roared as he unleashed a furious volley of blue orbs at Hank which were blocked by the ghostly shield. Hank returned fire with a scattering of golden arrows and pale violet orbs of his own. Venger dispelled these, and they glittered the sky like a fireworks display.

But things soon took a more serious turn. Venger changed to a barrage of lightning attacks. Hank's shield held, but not as easily as before. When he could, Hank answered with fiery rays followed by silvery projectiles that Venger blocked with a wing. They embedded there, and were flung away.

They continued to exchange fire. Hank tried time and again to unseat Venger and bring him down, but to no avail. Venger kept to the sky, but was forced to dodge one attack after another.

Venger found an opportunity to strike again, and it was obviously an attempt to finish Hank and end the battle. He flew in a tight circle and blanketed Hank with a thick black mist that turned to liquid as it pressed down over him and all the way into the ground to seep within, churning and bubbling as it went.

Hank was gone.

"Hank!" Sheila yelled in chorus with Diana and Bobby.

Sheila refused to believe Hank was dead. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat and looked all around, but he was nowhere to be seen. She heard Diana gasp behind her and looked up at Venger. His attention had turned now to their unprotected group. She stepped back. It was all she could do. There was no time even to think of running.

Venger grinned as he dove for them. Sheila held tightly to her brother and hit the ground, certain this was her final moment. There was a flash of greenish light so bright that she saw it through her closed eyelids, and she wondered if she would die before she felt any pain.

But she only heard Venger's agonized cry. She opened her eyes to see Diana's — Hank's — javelin protruding from the center of Venger's chest. But it was more than the javelin. It was spiraled with intertwining gold and lavender, and it was slightly flared on the end like a long baseball bat. Venger was on the ground now. His black horse was galloping in circles high above. And there was Hank, menacingly closing the distance between himself and his adversary as he strode toward him.

Venger was on his knees with one hand on the ground to steady him as he struggled to stand and back away. The other hand gripped the combined and solidified energy of the glowing Objects of Power that penetrated him. He pulled at it, but it came forward only little by little. Each pull brought a torturous groan from him.

Sheila had never heard the sound of such pain before. It was worse than hearing Shadow Demon before he died, though she didn't feel ill this time. This was a sound no person or animal could make. But it was the indescribable way it made her feel inside that she found most curious and confusing of all. She felt the urge to run to Venger's aid. The one thing she knew for sure was that Hank _had_ to be stopped. He was the bad guy here, not Venger.

"Killing you in the Graveyard would've been too easy," said Hank in that same controlled voice. "I want you to suffer, Venger, for all the times you've made us suffer. You're the one who will pay, and I'm the one who'll make you!"

"Hank! Stop it!" Sheila called out.

But instead, Hank leapt forward, took hold of the end of the javelin, and pulled. It had not yet left Venger's body when he thrust it in again, bringing a deep howl from Venger. And then Hank did it again, faster this time. He repeatedly rammed the javelin into Venger's chest, grunting with hatred in the effort of each thrust.

"He's gonna kill Venger," Presto said with as much disbelief as Sheila felt. "Hank's _actually_ going to kill Venger!"

"No way," said Bobby in a whisper of awe.

"Shouldn't we . . . do something?" Diana asked anyone who might have an answer.

"We won't have to," said Eric in an even voice.

"What?" Diana asked.

"What do you mean?" asked Presto.

"Uh . . . I don't know," said Eric.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Diana asked.

"I mean that I didn't mean to say that! I don't know what it meant! Lay off, will ya? It just came out," said Eric.

Sheila could hardly pay attention to the exchange as Venger's moans threw her mind into turmoil. She wanted to stop this, but couldn't bring herself to act. Indecision pinned her where she stood. She thought of the Dragons' Graveyard, and once her thoughts were there, she couldn't get them out again. Her memory of that moment when Hank was a second away from releasing that last arrow — an arrow more powerful than any he had ever before pulled into being on his magical bow — was frozen in time within her mind.

_It's like that. It's like it's happening all over again! Only worse!_

Hank was now circling Venger. Sheila could see a soft golden glow outlining Hank's body. It was almost angelic. And it was terrifying.

Sheila dared to take a step forward. "Hank! Don't do this! Remember what you said in the Graveyard! You'd be no better than he is! It was wrong then and it's wrong now!"

"Maybe I _am_ no better than he is," Hank said, actually moving in close to Venger's face. "Maybe I'm _tired_ of playing by the rules. I'm going to correct the mistake I made. I should never have let him live!" With that, he kicked Venger in the head, and he fell on his side with a bellow.

Hank was breathing hard, his fists clenching and unclenching. "Sheila, can't you understand? I'm doing this for you, for all of us, for the good of the Realm!" Hank's voice was full of retribution. And that voice made Sheila's blood run cold. It had something like an electronic kind of edge to it — like the way Venger's sounded.

Hank came to stand again before the fallen Force of Evil, and Sheila was sure he was about to kill him this time. Venger weakly raised a hand, and then the wind strengthened, forming a whirlwind. Hank was being blown back, away from Venger. His feet were sliding. Soon, it started to lift him from the ground.

"No! _No!_" Hank yelled. He thrust out his hand and the shield appeared, but it did little good. As his feet left the ground, he reached out with his other hand and retrieved the powers of the other weapons, freeing Venger. The winds quickly died down to nothing.

When Sheila saw that Hank was out of danger, she turned her attention back to Venger, but he was no longer there.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Venger sat on a throne in a room of his castle that had been untouched for ages. Everything was gray with dust. Everything, everywhere gray. He reached out, as he had done countless times before, with that magical, mental calling.

No response.

Again he summoned, this time accompanied by the calling of the name aloud.

Nothing.

He was forced to acknowledge a stillness and a silence and an emptiness he had never known. Since he had become Venger, there had been the shadow servant. He had never been without him. Always by his side had been the Dark Familiar, now gone.

Shadow Demon was gone.

_The Ranger!_

"He will pay for this," Venger whispered in a murderous tone. "He will suffer. He will die!" He pounded his fist against the throne, throwing dust and cracking the arm. Pieces fell to disturb more dust on the floor.

He looked down at this, and then rose and turned to face the regal seat. For a moment, he stared at it, his face twisting ever more in anger until he lunged with a roar and pummeled the whole of it to shards and splinters. When he finished, he was on his knees, his eyes glowing with crimson flames, amid a cloud of the remains of the throne's structure — ancient stones, aged wood, and the bones of dead wizards.

He took a handful of debris and crushed it into yet more dust. _This is what I will do to the Ranger and his friends._

* * *

Sheila sat on the ground. She couldn't take her eyes from Hank's form, which was crouched perfectly still as he stared out intently at nothing in particular. He had been like this since Venger escaped. He hadn't spoken to or even looked at anybody. He wouldn't answer when any of them tried to talk to him. It was like he wasn't there, yet his presence was very much felt, as evidenced by everyone's subdued demeanor some distance away from him.

She looked up. The day had become overcast. Those sunny hours earlier hadn't felt right, anyway.

Bobby sat grumpily beside her. He had wanted to go to Hank, and she'd had to stop him. Naturally, he had asked why, but she hadn't been able to think of a way to answer so that he'd understand. Now, he was fidgeting with his club. She knew he was about to say something.

He scooted over closer to her. "What's going on, Sis? I don't get it. Why are we sitting over here, and Hank's all alone way over there? He killed Shadow Demon!—"

"Keep your voice down, Bobby, please."

"Why? Why can't we talk? Just tell me what's going on. I don't like this. I mean, why isn't everyone happy? Everybody's acting like Hank's gonna bite or something."

"Ya think?" said Eric, but no one responded to him.

"Bobby, Hank's changed somehow, okay?" Diana began something of an explanation. "He's not acting like himself. I don't think he'd hurt any of us. . . , but we need to be careful. Hank has all the powers of our weapons, and. . . ." She stopped and looked to Sheila.

Sheila understood. No one had a good answer for Bobby. No one wanted to say that Hank was a threat. No one wanted to say that it seemed as though Hank were turning evil. That was something that Sheila simply couldn't accept. She felt she should do something, but she didn't know what. She hated sitting by while Hank was in trouble. And he _was_ in trouble, she knew, whether anyone else, including Hank, thought so or not.

"This is so stupid!" Eric said in hushed tones. "Sitting over here like children put in the corner for acting up! We gotta do something about him!"

"Yeah, Eric, but _he_ just put _Venger_ in the corner," said Presto, and then he sighed. "I think I'd rather just leave him alone for now. He'll come around. He's probably over there trying to figure out how to get the powers back where they belong right now." He took off his hat and just looked at it as though it were a dead beloved pet in his hands.

Everyone fell silent again, and Sheila went back to uselessly staring at Hank.

* * *

Hank's mind was in a place it had never been before, and he marveled at it. Thought took form. He felt almost centered. His thinking brought him near clarity. When he concentrated, he could make pieces fit — if forced. And the picture was incomplete, but it was enough for Hank. What he saw, he knew already.

_I need more power. All six weapons, and Venger still lives. _

_I should have known. I should have realized. It makes sense and I didn't see it. Our weapons were never enough to beat him. _

_No, I did see it. Over and over I saw it. All those times, we only succeeded because of some lucky break or because Venger overlooked something. Our weapons never truly threatened him! And Dungeon Master has known all along. He has known all this time that our weapons were never enough! _

_Dungeon Master. Venger. Us. . . . Where do we fit in? Why are we here if not to kill Venger? That's what's missing. Why can't I see it?_

_It won't matter soon. All I need is more power. And then I will kill him. _

_For you, Sheila. For all of you. For everyone. I know what I have to do._

* * *

_The wind. . . . Who else but Dungeon Master? But why? And why not make himself known? What kind of game is he playing this time?_

Venger stood in a forgotten library. He absently fingered the bindings of various texts. Those that were not protected by spell fell to dust.

Had this castle stood so long? he wondered.

He looked around the room. Abandoned spider webs were in every corner. There were a few candles here and there, melted down onto their holders. A table in the center of the room held a book on a bookstand. A bloodstain beside. He went to examine the ancient text. The pages were fragile with age. He wondered what he'd been studying and when, and then suddenly he didn't care. He clawed the open book, and it fell apart. The bookstand didn't hold up, either. Venger's lips curled into into a smile and he chuckled at it. His expression returned quickly to the mixture of anger and misery.

He looked around again. He spied a chest in the corner and went and opened it out of curiosity — nothing more. He lifted Nera's wand. Delicate, beautiful . . . and useless. It had only ever worked for its delicate and beautiful former possessor. He had killed her for nothing. _I should have made the weapons work only for me._ He tossed it behind him and removed an ancient map. He carefully unrolled it. It marked the supposed whereabouts of the mythical Protectors, the thirteen crystal dragon figurines that were said to protect one from their corresponding Weapons of Power. _Balance. . . . I should have searched for them._ He set the map aside.

He removed next a small, oval mirror that was said to show its owner his enemies. _Worthless._ All it had ever shown him was his own reflexion. He flung it behind him. The sound of its shattering making him chuckle again; he couldn't fathom why. Now he found bundled incenses with scents that blinded, paralyzed, maddened, killed. All crumbled at his touch. He wondered why he'd never amused himself with their use on his prisoners.

Shadow Demon had always invented the most creative tortures. . . .

Phial of Flame that could burn through cursed chains. No need for that. It flew up and over Venger's head, landing with an explosion of fire that he didn't so much as acknowledge.

Revealing Ring that could show the mood of any who wore it. It was always black on his finger. He flung it away.

Ouroboros pendant on a silver chain that was said to give the wearer life eternal. Fake. Toss.

Mystical this, enchanted that; bone of this, wing of that — all scattered now about the room. There was nothing here that could help him. Still, he knew he must fight. He could not lose all to a boy! The humiliation!

He sat back against a wall and propped an arm on his knee. With a flick of a finger, the Ouroboros left the collection of debris and strewn charms to fly into his waiting hand. His eyes followed the body of the snake up to the head, which held its tail in its mouth, trying to devour itself.

Venger smirked, then chucked, then laughed aloud. "Fool!" he said to the snake, laughing. Then he laughed louder, unable to control it. But then his laughter died away.

"Fool," he whispered to himself. It had never occurred to him to ward his castles against invasion by unicorn. The Ranger had proven himself both clever and daring. He could almost admire him.

He crushed the pendant and rose. What was this? This was unworthy of him!

"I need nothing. I need no one!" His wings majestically spread wide. "I am Venger! The Force of Evil! No one can stop me! No child can thwart my destiny!"

Venger knew his enemy's next move. It would be what his own would have been. He would go to the Dragons' Graveyard. The ways of the weapons would show him how to unite their magics. It would be as easy as replacing the powers to their corresponding hosts. And Venger could think of no way to prevent him.

Perhaps he wouldn't have to. Dungeon Master may yet intervene. Perhaps it had been Dungeon Master who had stopped the Ranger before. There was one other possibility — albeit a remote one — one that he couldn't quite bring himself to truly believe. It was time to be daring himself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Sheila was watching Hank again. Except for glances at her friends behind her, she really hadn't stopped. Her fear and concern hadn't allowed her attention to stray from him. They should have made camp an hour ago, she thought, but without Hank, no one had seemed to want to commit to doing anything.

She thought about all that had happened. Was it really still the same day? It was, though not for much longer, and so much had happened. Too much. She needed sleep. Bobby and Presto were sleeping against each other. Uni slept at their feet. Eric and Diana were talking, but she couldn't hear what they said.

She looked up at the sky. The clouds had moved on, and she could see stars twinkling above. Dreamily, she remembered how she would wish on stars when she was a kid. She thought of Bobby and wished that things were as simple as he saw them. A part of her was certainly glad of Shadow Demon's death, but all she could do was inwardly sigh with relief that there was one less evil to consider. It was the circumstances of that death that made it something they couldn't celebrate. There was nothing noble, nothing heroic, in what Hank had done.

Sheila thought of going over and talking to Hank. But what would she say? Everything she thought of sounded pointless or inadequate. But now, she saw, she didn't have to. Hank was getting up. Sheila patted a hand on the ground behind her to get the others' attention. "Here he comes," she whispered. In the failing light of dusk, Sheila saw an eerie luminescence outlining him, like before, though not as bright. It was barely perceptible to her eyes, like it was there yet not.

Sheila rose, as did they all, in anticipation of what, she did not know. "Hank?" said Sheila as she stepped in front of him. "Are you OK?"

He stared into her eyes and brought his hands to her face. So intense was his gaze that she couldn't look away, though the uncharacteristic lust in his eyes was making her uncomfortable. No, this was not the Hank she knew, not her Hank at all.

"I'm always OK when I'm with you," he finally said. "You give me strength, Sheila. But I need more to destroy Venger. I need more power so that next time . . . I won't fail," he said with a shake of his head. "I won't fail any of you."

"What do you mean, Hank?" As she looked into his eyes, their hair began blowing about their faces, and Hank smiled. It brightened the whole of his body. Then they were all surrounded by an array of revolving colors and bright swirling energies. She felt Hank's hands on her shoulders with a firm grip that told her to be still. "What's happening? Hank—"

She wasn't the only one voicing surprise and confusion.

"Shh," Hank softly said to her as he brushed her hair from her face. "Don't be afraid."

Suddenly, it came to her. "Not the Graveyard," she begged.

His silence answered her, as did his change of expression. It grew colder somehow, and the smile receded slightly. The Graveyard was exactly where they were going. No, she thought, as the scenery changed around them. It was where they already were!

She looked around. It was pretty much as they'd left it. Piles of bones, scorch marks from the battle, and there . . . the place where it had happened. The little island of rock where Venger had been pinned by Presto, released by Hank. The bright yellow-orange glow from what must have been underground lava was now a dull red.

"The Dragons' Graveyard," Presto whispered, looking up and around.

Sheila looked up and wondered if it was always night here.

She didn't want to be here. There were only bad memories of this place. Things could have gone so wrong. Things could have changed for the worse. Some things had changed — those things mostly had to do with Hank. She had considered them all lucky to have come out of the whole ordeal with nothing more than a few issues to resolve amongst themselves. Now they were all here again, and she couldn't help but feel they were tempting Fate.

"What are we doing here?" Diana asked.

"Whaddya think?" Eric muttered angrily.

Sheila looked to Hank, but he ignored them. She watched as he stepped toward that place, staring at that rock. She thought of Venger pinned there, helpless. She had only ever seen fear in Venger when he was in Tiamat's presence. But what she had seen in Venger's face at that fateful moment was mortal fright. And she had felt for him. It was a feeling she had struggled with ever since.

Sheila stared at the island rock, replaying the scene in her mind, seeing it there. Seeing _him_ there. The fear in his eyes. And then the arrow rushing towards him. She hadn't been able to watch.

There was a sudden blast of white light and the rock shattered into nonexistence. She shielded her eyes and screamed. She heard the others' screams and shouts, too.

"What the hell, Hank!" Eric shouted. No one else said a word.

Sheila's heart was pounding and she brought a shaking hand to her chest as she fought to calm down. Again she could not help but think of Venger, how she had only ever felt such fear in his presence. She looked at Hank and found him looking right into her eyes. Another jolt of fear took her at the look of hatred on his face, and she started to cry. It was all too much. She let her trembling legs go underneath her and she collapsed to sit on the ground, covering her face as she sobbed. She wanted all this to end!

"Eric, don't!"

Sheila heard Diana's voice and looked up, bewildered. Eric was standing in front of her with the end of the trident pointed at Hank. Hank was close now, and Eric had armed himself and stepped between them.

"Back off, Hank!" Eric yelled, holding the trident like it was a shot gun.

Sheila scrambled to get up. Diana was suddenly behind her, helping her. She saw the whip in Diana's hand. "Where's Bobby?" Then she saw him. He had the sword, barely, struggling to hold it the way he held his club and failing. His eyes were wide as he watched with a lost expression on his young face. Presto was beside him, limply holding the wand, clearly not eager to try to use it.

"Bobby, put the sword down. We can't fight each other!" She had wanted to say it like she meant it, because she did, but it came out more like a question she was afraid to learn the answer to.

And Eric delivered her dreaded answer: "No! We all know what he's here to do, don't we? You're all thinking the same thing I am. Our own weapons aren't enough for him. He wants them all! We can't let him have these!"

"I'm not the enemy, Eric. Give it to me," Hank said.

"No!"

Hank came forward slowly, radiating luminescence.

"J-just stay where you are, Hank. I _will_ use this." Eric raised his new weapon. "I . . . I mean it!"

Bobby and Presto came to stand with Sheila and Diana. Sheila held Bobby tightly. She felt so powerless. She wished she could stop this. Hank was still advancing on Eric, and she couldn't believe how brave Eric was to stand up to him like this. Hank had nearly reached Eric now. Eric gripped the trident more tightly and it sparked to life in his hands; it popped and crackled as lightning flashed at its end, ready to be released.

"Give it to me, Eric," Hank said in a new, eerie double voice. "Trust me." The way he said it gave Sheila shivers and goosebumps.

When Hank reached out to take it from him, Eric pulled it back. "I'm sorry, Hank, . . . really." Eric then let loose a bolt that hit Hank full in the chest.

"No!" Sheila screamed.

Hank staggered back at first, but then regained his footing and once again advanced on Eric. Eric kept the weapon's energy steady on Hank, who continued to close in on him.

Sheila watched in disbelief as Eric and Hank faced each other. She tried to tell them to stop, but her voice was so small that it went unheard under the static noise — if her voice had escaped her at all.

Hank reached out again, slowly. His breathing was slow and deep, and in his face was a picture of set determination — pure will. He gripped one prong of the trident. His expression now a mixture of pain and amazement as he continued to stare directly into Eric's eyes. But then that changed. His eyes widened. He smiled, almost laughed, and the weapon died in Eric's hands as lightning popped and buzzed around the whole of Hank's body.

Eric dropped the trident and backed away, nearly stumbling onto everyone.

The power of the trident quieted, the glow of energy receded within Hank. He took a deep breath and looked at Diana. And then he reached out his hand. "Diana. . . ."

"Leave her alone!" Eric shouted.

Hank grabbed him by the collar. "Get out of my way!" He threw him aside and took a step toward Diana. "The whip, Diana."

Sheila turned around and looked at Diana. She'd never seen such an expression before. Not on anyone, except maybe in movies. She thought of how it might match Eric's tone of voice from earlier. The willingness to do something they thought they'd never do.

Hank shrugged at her as if to say he would deign to allow her a moment to comply. He turned his attention to Bobby. "I need the sword, Bobby." He reached toward the boy.

Bobby just looked at the sword as though unsure what to do.

"Bobby, do you want Venger dead?" Hank asked.

"Yeah. You know I do," Bobby answered.

_Oh, Bobby. . . ._ Sheila's heart dropped to hear such a thing from her little brother. Such a young voice, agreeing that someone should be dead.

"Venger is powerful. So I must be even more powerful if I'm going to kill him, right?"

"I guess . . . yeah."

Sheila bowed her head and let the tears fall. This couldn't be happening.

"Will you trust me? Will you give me the sword?"

Bobby went toward Hank, but Diana grabbed him. "No, Bobby! It's changing him! Don't do it!"

Bobby jerked his arm away. "Get off! Hank's right!" He walked up to Hank and held the handle of the sword out to him, the blade dragging the ground. "Here, Hank."

"Thanks, Bobby." The sword glowed brightly as Hank held it up, looking at it almost lovingly. Soon the glow died, having been transferred to Hank. His eyes closed and the sword dropped from his hand as he let his head slowly fall back.

"Sorry, Diana, Eric, but I'm not fighting this. He's just going to take it anyway," Presto said, holding out the wand and approaching Hank like he only wanted to get as close to him as he absolutely had to.

Hank just smiled and nodded to Presto as he took the wand from him, and Presto quickly backed away.

At that instant, Diana lashed out with the whip and caught the wand, instantly flinging it away. Then she recast it to coil around Hank's neck. He pulled Diana off her feet toward him, but she used this to launch herself at him. Hank released the whip and caught her, and they both fell to the ground.

Sheila watched as Diana put all her focus and strength into choking Hank. She had read Diana's face right — it looked like she was trying to kill him.

Hank threw Diana off of him, but Diana only rolled and was soon poised again to leap at Hank. But she never did. She wasn't moving. She seemed frozen.

Hank rose and began to unwind the whip from his neck, the glow of its power ran through it as it was uncoiled. It reminded Sheila of an IV tube. Energies went toward the tip until they were emptied into Hank. Drained of its power, it was cast aside.

"Diana," Sheila said, finally finding her voice, weak and strained though it was.

"She's all right; they all are," Hank answered.

_All?_ Sheila looked around at her friends. All motionless. Statues.

"What have you done? Why are you doing this? They're your friends! They trusted you!"

"I did it _because_ they're my friends. And because they don't understand. Did Eric sound like he trusted me?" Hank moved toward Sheila, but she backed away. "Sheila, there's so much more going on here. I don't even understand it all myself. I only know that I have to do this, OK? I didn't mean for any of this to happen, but now that it has . . . I have to carry it through. I'm the only one who can."

They only looked at each other for a moment before Hank turned and walked away. He whipped an arm out and the glowing, ghostly whip lashed out to retrieve the wand. After taking its power, he found the horn. He lifted it to his lips and a pulse moved from it into Hank. To Sheila, it looked like he drank its power.

"We shouldn't be here, Hank. Just take us back. What if Tiamat shows up? Hank, please. I'm scared!"

"Tiamat's no threat to me, now." He said this so casually that he might have been talking about football tryouts rather than a monstrous five-headed dragon. "Besides," he added as he found and picked up the mace, "she isn't here."

"Hank. . . . Please don't do this. You don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do."

"Hank, it's changing you! You're different! Please . . . you have to listen to me! Look at what you've done!" She touched Bobby's frozen face and felt the tears coming. She couldn't help it.

Hank whirled around, glowing mace in hand, and walked quickly toward her. "Don't! Don't be like them!" He pointed accusingly at the others frozen around them. "Not _you_, Sheila!"

He squeezed the mace. It's power flared, hummed, died. He flung it away, and then his body ignited with white light. It was like he was on fire. It brought to her mind pictures of biblical angels from her childhood. He raised his hands and balled them into fists, studying the power that emanated from himself.

Sheila felt she could faint. She had seen too much for one day, and was exhausted from lack of sleep and too much worry. But she couldn't let herself slip away like that. Everyone needed her, though she still didn't know what she could do against Hank's power. He was unstoppable, possibly invincible.

He went to her and embraced her tightly. "It's OK. Please don't cry, and please don't ask me not to do this. I have to. Don't you understand? I _have_ to!" He held her a while longer, and she let herself lean into him. And then he said, "Oh, Sheila, don't make me silence you, too."

Her eyes widened and her heart fell to her stomach. His arms suddenly felt more like ropes binding her. She had to show him she was on his side. She couldn't help him, or the others, if he believed she was against him. It was up to her. She had to be strong.

"I do trust you, Hank," she said, willing herself to sound believable. "I think you _are_ doing this to protect us. They can't know what it's like . . . to have these powers. _I_ can't know. Only you do, and I believe in you." She gently pulled away and smiled up at him. "Is there anything you need me to do? I want to help you, but you have to tell me everything."

Hank shook his head. "You don't need to do anything. Just leave it all to me," he said with a smile.

That wasn't the answer she was hoping for.

He brought his hands to her face. His blue eyes shone and sparkled. His hair was like fire. His touch was electrifying. "You are my true strength," he said. "The power of our love is stronger, even, than this. You will never have to fear again as long as I am with you." He spoke so differently now. It reminded her of how Eric spoke when he was Dungeon Master, but with Venger's reverberation. Like something more than human. Perhaps he was, she thought.

"But I _am_ afraid, Hank. Dungeon Master said you could lose more than you ever gained, remember?"

"Perhaps I have lost what I was, but see what I have become! I have the power to protect all of you, to protect the whole Realm! This is what I am meant to do." Then he moved his face closer to hers. "I do this for you. I love you, Sheila, and I am worthy to prove that now."

"Hank, I . . . I loved you before this happened. You were always worthy to me. You don't have to prove anything. You—"

He stopped her with a kiss. She had never been kissed like this before. She couldn't help but kiss him back. She had dreamed of this moment and was lost in it immediately, forgetting for now that Hank was not himself. It was dreamlike. She could feel the powers that flowed through him, and they caressed her. His light lit her eyelids. There was no darkness. But then his hands raked down her sides, coming to rest on her hips where he squeezed and pulled at her.

She ended the kiss. "Hank, stop it, please." She tried to pull away, but he wasn't ready to let go. He pulled at her more urgently and bit at her neck. "Hank, stop it!"

As though coming out of a trance, he seemed finally to realize what he was doing. He quickly released her. "I'm sorry. Sheila, I. . . ."

Sheila glanced at the others and then closed her eyes. "Just let them go. _Please._"

He hesitated, but then waved a hand in their direction, and they were released.

"What just happened?" Eric asked angrily.

"It's over, Eric. We tried," Diana told him as she glared at Hank.

Bobby found and picked up the magic wand. "They're all dead, aren't they? Just like our weapons."

Hank walked over and knelt down to him. "They are all alive . . . _in me_." Hank raised and flared a shimmering hand in front of his face like a magician entertaining a child. "And I will protect all of you. Venger will pay for all he has done."

Sheila was uneasy with Hank's being so close to her little brother. She began walking toward them when her foot snagged on something. She looked down to see the healing net that Dungeon Master had used to save Uni's life the first time they were here. Hank had overlooked it! She looked around. No one was watching her. She quickly grabbed the net and felt that same strange living feeling of it in her fingers. Quickly, she folded it and tucked it into her belt at her back. She hoped Hank wouldn't remember it, or find it.

"It's time pay the Force of Evil a visit," declared Hank.

* * *

Tiamat raised her large red head and grumbled. The pale-haired human wanted a second chance at destroying Venger. And so he would have it. Any work against Venger she would aid, even if she had no real faith in that work.

He had taken all the powers of the weapons, except for the net, which the girl had found, as arranged. Tiamat had done her part. In truth, she could not care less for Dungeon Master's manipulations. But whatever his reasons, this she had agreed to do for him.

But Tiamat had her own plans, as well. She would be there, she decided, to finish Venger if the young human faltered again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The return trip to the Realm was effortless compared to the trip into the Graveyard, and Hank couldn't help but smile to himself. He could feel the ancient and living powers surging through him. He loved how they sharpened his vision, illuminated his flesh, gave him an energy and a feeling of control he'd never known — could never have known. He held a hand up against the night and admired it.

_Brighter than the stars,_ he mused._ I_ am_ the light._

"Uh-oh," said Eric then, looking down at the ground.

"What is it?" Diana was quick to ask.

Everyone was now looking at Eric, including Hank, but Eric only lifted his head slowly in Hank's direction.

A growing rumble, and then the ground trembled.

"It's an earthquake!" yelled Presto as they all fought to keep their footing.

They grabbed hold of each other as the ground shook harder. The rumble filled Hank's ears as a crack opened, quickly widening and separating him from the others. Sheila was yelling to him from the other side as Diana pulled at her to get her away from the edge. He had to get to her!

As he was about to run and jump the gap, the ground underneath him was sucked under, bringing him down with it. He thew the javelin out to plant itself in firm ground, the whip right behind it to wrap around it, and jerked himself up and away from the black hole. A root lashed out behind him, caught him around the waist, and slammed him down. As it pulled him backwards along loose, jagged rocks, he saw Eric, grabbing Sheila and dragging her away with him! Her voice was drowned out by the thunderous rumble of the Realm, but he knew she was calling out to him.

_No you don't, damn you!_

Hank growled and twisted, shooting a red lancing bar of power, first at a new root speeding for him, and then at the one that already had him. He threw himself upright and flipped his way toward the gap faster than any mere human could. At the last inch of land, he produced the javelin again and used it to catapult himself across the newly formed chasm to Sheila.

"Hank," she cried with relief. She broke away from Eric and ran toward him, but then a wall of rock shot up between them, screeching all the way. Still, he could hear Sheila screaming on the other side. With an inhuman roar, he brought the club and mace together to hit the rock with all the power he could give them.

When the dust settled, it wasn't Sheila he saw first, but Dungeon Master. And the Realm went silent. He hated how Dungeon Master always knew how to make an entrance.

He saw his friends, crouched and huddled far behind their old guide. Hank glared at the old man, who was staring at him with that fatherly look, only this time with a touch of pity in his eyes.

"This is wrong, Ranger. Search yourself. This is not the way," Dungeon Master said.

"Why can't you understand what I mean to do? You have never defeated Venger as I have, _and will again_. And that's it, isn't it? You can't stand for a human, a _child_, to do what you aren't able to do? If you cannot destroy your enemy, then stand aside and allow someone who can!"

Dungeon Master gave him a stern look. "I urge you, Ranger, end this. The enemy you seek may not be the enemy you find."

"Enough of your riddles! And you well know I am not the Ranger! Not anymore. The Ranger is only one of many, and I am _all_." Hank watched for his old guide's reaction, and found Dungeon Master's quiet composure maddening.

Composing himself, he held his hands out in a gesture of peace. "All I ask is that you let me do what I am destined to do. Don't make me fight you! You don't know how easy it would be for me. . . ." Hank balled his fist and closed his eyes. He was surprised at the restraint he had to maintain not to throw everything he had at the meddlesome little man. He felt like his heart was about to implode.

_What's happening to me? Never felt . . . so much hatred. But I _need _the power of my hatred. Venger must die! And I can't let anyone get in my way. Not even Dungeon Master._

Hank tried to speak as calmly as he could. "Just leave, Dungeon Master. Go. Now. I won't stop. And if you truly could stop me, you would have already." He wasn't sure if that was right, but surely it was. With the anger he felt, he really didn't care if Dungeon Master was still more powerful than he was. He'd fight him anyway.

"It's not Dungeon Master! It's the Realm itself!" Eric suddenly shouted. And then he stopped, as though realizing what he'd just said. "Hey! Hey, I'm right, aren't I, Dungeon Master?"

"That is correct, Cavalier," Dungeon Master answered, never taking his eyes from Hank's. "No one being was ever meant to be a vessel for _all_ the Objects of Power. Each weapon is meant for one, and each must come together in friendship. The burden is not meant for one alone."

"I _choose_ to be alone in this. I accept that burden."

There was a moment of silence between them.

"Very well, _Hank_." Dungeon Master turned and walked away, to vanish behind a portion of the broken wall.

Hank was still looking to where the old man had disappeared when Sheila all but crashed into him in a tearful embrace. He automatically put his arms around her. No, she'd never turn on him. Not his Sheila.

"Hank, please listen to Dungeon Master! Remember last time? When you wanted to get rid of Venger? Remember when Dungeon Master said that course could only lead to ruin? Just let things go back to the way they were! Please!" she begged.

He grabbed her arms and held her away from him. How quickly his love of her had turned to disgust! He hated what he saw. Fear. Fear of him. How could she say these things? What more did he have to do to prove himself to her? What was it going to take to make her finally understand? He let her go when he felt the urge to crush her arms.

"You said you trusted me, Sheila, believed in me. But you're just like the others. You want to stop me, too! You're on Dungeon Master's side! Will you try to kill me next?"

"No! I don't want you to get hurt."

"What about _us_ getting hurt!" Eric said. "The Realm's likely to come crashing down on all of us because of _him_!"

"I'll protect all of you . . . whether you agree with what I'm doing or not," said Hank, feeling they all should have been humbled by his words. Then he felt the wind pick up.

"I don't want your protection!" Eric yelled contemptuously. "And you're not our leader anymore, not as far as I'm concerned!"

That struck him, and it stung. Hank looked at the others, who were looking away with their heads all bowed. What was going on? He was right, wasn't he? He had the powers, was willing to use them to help everyone. . . . Venger was the enemy. How could his friends not be on his side? He looked to Sheila last. "And what about you, Sheila?"

"I. . . ." But then her eyes filled with tears.

"I want you with me," he told her. "If you alone believe in me, then that's all I'll need."

She only shook her head and backed away toward the others. So that's how it would be.

The wind was getting stronger. There was a brief tremble beneath his feet. Strange how all was still and quiet when Dungeon Master was there. Another wave of hatred crashed on the shores of his mind.

There was nothing strange about it at all, as far as he was concerned. And backing up the idiotic thing that Eric had said, about how it was the Realm itself attacking him. . . . That was desperate, even for Dungeon Master. Did he think he was that gullible? All he was trying to do was set his friends against him! Fine. He said he would see this through alone, and he'd meant it.

There was nothing else to say. It was time to get to work. He left without looking back.

* * *

How could he fight an enemy he could not find? He had ridden the nightmare weary through the night skies. Yet he knew if only he waited long enough, the Ranger would find _him_ in time. The Ranger had gone mad with power. The madness of obsession. The obsession to kill _him_. Venger stared into the pool, feeding it more and more power. Was he still in the Dragons' Graveyard? Or was he so powerful now that he could cloak himself and the rest of his group from any seeing power?

Restlessly, he paced around the pool. What he needed was Shadow Demon. He should have summoned a replacement by now. Why hadn't he?

He remembered when he first knew the demon. He had despised it. And he had resented his master for forcing a companion on him. It made him feel his master did not entirely trust him. All he wanted for so many years was to be rid of it. So many times he had considered eliminating it. But over time, he had allowed himself to grow dependent upon it, and over an even greater time, to even become somewhat fond of it. Maybe he would remain alone for a time. . . .

Around the pool again he went. Still nothing. He needed eyes on the ground throughout the Realm. Orcs, Simian bats, Lizard Men . . . all the spies he could gather. But would any of them survive long enough to report back to him? Venger thought of all the slain orcs. He thought again of Shadow Demon. No, he thought, this was something he alone would have to deal with.

Movement caught his eye. There! At last! In his excitement, he actually dropped down onto his knees at the edge of the pool and gripped its edge with both hands. And there he saw the Young Ones! There they were, out in the open, but the Ranger was nowhere to be seen. Would he really leave them undefended? Was he still so much the fool?

He saw the destruction there, too — the freshly and violently disturbed land. _Yes, the Realm rejects him! He does not understand. He does not know!_ This would work very much in his favor. The Realm itself was his unwitting ally. There were still secrets that only the oldest in the Realm remembered.

A blast suddenly rocked the castle. Dust and debris rained down on Venger. _The Ranger!_ The waiting was over. He couldn't afford to pass up this chance. He had to go before he lost this opportunity. If he could not fight against the Ranger, then he would bargain with him. And so he needed prisoners. He stealthily left his enemy to destroy his castle. Small loss. He had others. And there was much to gain.

* * *

From high above, Venger spotted the leaderless Young Ones, and seconds later, they spotted him. They ran, cowardly fools that they were. But then one slowed, stopped, and then turned to face him. What was the Thief doing? The others now were turning to run back for her.

He could have swooped down and captured them all at once, but Venger's curiosity was peaked. He went down fast to land sharply before the Thief, throwing soil at her dress and causing her would-be rescuers to stop in their tracks behind her. They were making this too easy, he thought as he dismounted.

"Where is Hank?" the Thief asked.

Bold of her, he thought. "He will come. Soon. And when he arrives, he will give up his powers, or you all will suffer."

The little Barbarian ran to be with his sister. "You'll be the one suffering, Venger! Just wait until Hank gets back! He'll show you!" And then the Thief was pushing him back and telling him to go back to the others. What was the girl up to?

"Take _me_ as your prisoner, Venger. Leave my friends alone," she said.

"What!" the Acrobat shouted.

"Are you crazy?" said the Cavalier.

"No, Sis!" The Barbarian this time.

"Silence!" he commanded the young fools. Turning back to the Thief, he asked, "Why should I take you, alone, when I could have _all_ of you?"

She looked down at the ground, and then up into his eyes. "Because I'm all you need. And it would be easier for you to handle one prisoner, rather than all of us. I'll be enough."

His was the stronger argument, he knew. It was just as easy for him to take all as to take one. But it was too intriguing an offer. Still, he knew not to underestimate any of them. Was this a ploy? If it was, he had to admit that he could not see how it would benefit them.

"Why do you do this, Thief?"

"Because . . . Hank has to be stopped," she said in a small voice. "And it's 'Sheila.' I'm not the Thief now," she said. And then in a tone barely audible: "Never really liked that name anyway."

Venger cocked an eyebrow — the only expression of surprise he was willing to display. _Impressive, this one._

"Very well." Had she just given him permission to use her true name? "I accept your offer. But I will not allow your friends to interfere. They will remain here." And with that, he threw a glowing cage to envelop them all. The futile sounds of their shock and protests amused him. The Thief, Sheila, was the only one who said nothing to this.

He held his hand out to her, enjoying the fear of him he saw in her eyes. But reach out she did. She took his hand. The warmth of her trembling hand surprised him on a different level. He had forgotten humans had that living warmth.

Behind him, the nightmare shrieked in pain. Venger spun around to see the creature reared, fiery hooves kicking. A glowing trident's prongs were buried deep in its neck. Sheila screamed. Then the trident was ripped out and the nightmare fell to the ground on its side.

Venger was stupefied. He ran to the nightmare and began to kneel at its head, but something was pulling at him. It didn't register at first that the Thief was pulling at his arm and yelling for him to get up. He stood and then took his lone hostage by the arm.

"Get your hands off her!" the Ranger roared in a voice not unlike his own.

His hot attention was instantly on the Ranger. He released the girl and balled his fists, which both ignited with silver flames. The Ranger's body in turn lit with a fiery luminescence. Venger knew his chances against the combined powers were slim, but he was too enraged to care. He ached to kill the Ranger! All else was forgotten. There was nothing but hate . . . and vengeance.

And then the Thief was between them, facing the Ranger. "Hank! Listen to me! You have to stop! Venger isn't the enemy here. Not this time."

"What are you saying, Sheila?"

Such a tone to take with a woman, Venger thought with something akin to glee. He decided to see how this would play out.

"I heard what Dungeon Master said. He said, 'The enemy you seek may not be the enemy you find.' He was talking about _you_, Hank! Don't you see?"

"How can you defend Venger! He's twisted your mind!" Hank said.

"It's _your_ mind that's twisted. It's all the power. It's changed you! You have to let it go!"

"But it's changed me for the better, can't you see? I can save the Realm! I can make Dungeon Master send us home!"

"You call this better? I don't even know you anymore!"

That got the Ranger's attention, Venger noticed. He was quite enjoying this — the contempt in her small but potent voice. He couldn't help but smile. Killing him after he'd been denounced by the one he was closest to would be so much the sweeter now. The Ranger would die with her words resounding in his ears.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Hank could not believe Sheila was defending Venger! He would have to deal with her betrayal later. If she would not stand aside, he would simply have to move her.

He raised a hand to do just that, but then he saw her look up, over and behind him, her face full of dread. The next thing he knew, Venger grabbed her and jumped just as a bolt of lightning hit right where she had been standing. Hank swung around. _Tiamat!_ And Venger had just saved Sheila from her attack. He was torn between gratitude and jealous anger.

He ran toward Venger. He had to separate them. Tiamat was aiming for Venger. He was going to get Sheila killed! _Not if I can kill him first!_ Hank leaped into the air and knocked Venger and Sheila both to the ground. With one swift movement, he meant to pierce Venger through the heart — if he had one — but Venger knocked the sword off its mark and was instead pinned through his left shoulder to the ground.

Venger growled in pain, but found his voice, "Fool! Tiamat will destroy us _all_!" He pushed Hank off and rolled to his feet. Clutching his shoulder, he said, "You and I are the only ones who can force her retreat, but only if we set our combined forces against _her_ and not each other."

Was Venger actually suggesting they work together? Had to be a trick. Or maybe he was that desperate, being faced with two powerful threats. Hank didn't want Tiamat to retreat. He didn't mind the help. When he thought of it, he really didn't care if he struck the killing blow. All he wanted was to see him dead.

"Listen to him, Hank, please!" Sheila begged.

He ignored her. "Or I could kill you, Venger. Tiamat doesn't care about us. It's _you_ she wants. Your death. And I doubt she cares who kills you."

"True. But you cannot kill me, not here. You had your one and only chance in the Dragons' Graveyard. Had I been in your place, I would have destroyed my enemy. But you preferred moral superiority. It was a false victory. A fool's victory."

"Shut up! You can't destroy me, either. But all I have to do is keep you here, and Tiamat will do my work for me."

"I was not planning on leaving," he said with a gesture toward his fallen steed.

Sheila got up and ran. Venger reached out to grab her, missed, and Hank automatically drew an arrow on him for it. He was glad she'd finally had the sense to run.

Venger smiled and spread his palms in appeasement. "Tiamat _is_ the only one I fear, but I have evaded the dragon queen for over a millenium. Would _you_ pursue me so long?"

Vines were clawing at Hank's feet. A strong wind blew against him, and the ground began once more to tremble.

"It seems you have other concerns, as well," added Venger with a smirk.

Hank couldn't help but notice that Venger was untouched by the wind. He still had the arrow aimed at Venger. Venger was lying, he decided. He _could_ kill him; he was powerful enough. He increased energy to the bow and the rumble beneath his feet grew. He could deal with the Realm later, _after_ he killed Venger. All he had to do was release the arrow.

Venger took a couple steps backwards.

"Think you can outrun an arrow?" Hank asked with a smirk of his own.

"I have no intention of running anywhere," Venger said with that insufferable smirk still planted on his face.

Hank prepared to release his arrow, one even more powerful than he'd shot in the Graveyard. _I will free the Realm of The Force of Evil._

But then the black, monstrous flying horse landed between them — with Sheila on its back!

_No! How?_

Without hesitation, Venger mounted behind her and, with a leap, they were in the air. The next instant, an intense wave of heat enveloped him from above. But Tiamat's fire did not burn him. The shield prevented harm. He looked only to Venger and Sheila, high in the air. And then Tiamat was flying for them, screeching, and looking and sounding more determined than ever to finish him.

Hank watched as Tiamat closed the distance and thought of Sheila. What could he do to save her? A voice inside him told him it shouldn't matter what became of her now; she had betrayed him, betrayed them all. But he didn't like that voice.

Still, he only watched as Venger dodged the dragon and fired powerful orbs at her great head. But then another head struck true. Venger was hit with her lightning in his back. Even from such a distance, Hank heard Sheila scream as both fell from their mount.

"No!" Hank shouted as like a comet through the heavens he raced to try to save her.

Tiamat dived and sprayed fire down upon them. The last Hank saw of them, Venger had pulled Sheila to him and wrapped his wings around her. When Hank realized the acid head was about to attack, he hurled the sword, javelin, and trident at her. Each pierced a different head and Tiamat screamed as she fell.

Hank saw the black horse diving for Venger.

Tiamat soon righted herself and thankfully flew far off into the distance. Hank reclaimed the weapons, hoping she wouldn't return. Perhaps Tiamat believed she had killed Venger. Had she? He ran to where Venger and Sheila had fallen, but before he could get close, Venger's creature charged and reared at him, forcing him to shield himself against flaming hooves. He found that he actually didn't want to try to kill this thing a second time. Right now, he only wanted it to understand that he had to get to Sheila.

Of course, it was in no mood for understanding. And he decided it had every right to attack him. Hank found he actually regretted using his powerful magic to put it to sleep.

Hank wasn't ready for the sight awaiting him — the sight of Sheila, crying over Venger. And Venger, with burnt wings and blackened skin showing through his shredded clothing. Why did he feel no elation at his motionless body? He didn't know how, but knew he was still alive. If there was ever a moment to strike a final, fatal blow, this would be it. Why wasn't he doing it?

Sheila jerked her head toward him. "No, Hank, no," she choked out through her tears. "He saved my life! He was trying to get away. He wasn't going to fight you!"

"He only saved you because he needed you as a prisoner."

"Does it matter? Besides, I offered myself as a prisoner."

"You _what_?"

"And if you still want to kill him, well, you'll just have to get through me."

Before Hank could decide what to think about this declaration, Eric was there.

"And me," said Eric, moving to stand between Hank and Venger.

"And me," Diana said as she came to stand beside Eric.

Presto came to join them, but wasn't as quick as those before him. "Me, too. Sorry, Hank."

Bobby finally joined his sister. There were tears in his eyes. He got down beside her and hugged her tightly.

"Bobby! You're all free!" Sheila said as she hugged her brother.

"The cage just disappeared," he explained. He held her more tightly, "I thought you were gonna die."

"I'm OK, Bobby."

Hank almost felt like crying, himself. _What have I done? All my friends are against me. Dungeon Master is against me. . . . He warned me I'd lose more than I'd ever gained. I'm even losing_ myself.

Then there was a voice behind him. "It is time to choose, Ranger," said Dungeon Master. The weapons from the Graveyard were laid out in front of him.

Hank went and knelt before him. "I didn't mean for all this to happen, Dungeon Master. I wanted to do good. I wanted to help everyone. But it went all wrong. _I_ went all wrong," he admitted, bowing his head.

"It's like they say, Hank," Eric told him, "The road to Hell is paved with good intentions." Eric nudged Diana's arm. "Read that in a story once." She rolled her eyes in response, but then smiled at him.

"I'm sorry, everyone," Hank said. And he meant it.

"It was not entirely your fault, Ranger. The power you obtained from your weapons had been corrupted by Venger. You were not yourself."

Hank thought about that for a moment. "It makes sense now . . . all the hatred, all the overconfidence," he said in a voice barely audible.

"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm ready to have a working shield again. So, ah, how about it, Hank?" Eric said.

Hank looked at Sheila, who was looking at him from over Bobby's shoulder as she held him. How could he have forgotten where his true strength came from?

He held up a hand and studied its golden glow. A part of him still didn't want to give up the powers. He still felt he could do much good in the Realm with them. He still believed he could become that hero, and considered the possibility of overcoming the corruption in time. But was he prepared to roam the Realm alone? The Force of Good opposing The Force of Evil? How could he live as something his friends couldn't accept?

No, he couldn't. It would never be right, no matter how much good he could ever do. He realized that now. And he also realized something else.

"I know what to do; I know how to give the powers back."

It was ever so simple. All he had to do was . . . well, sort of _tell_ the individual powers where he wanted them to be, to stay. He held one hand toward the weapons of the Graveyard, and one toward his friends, each with their own weapons. The powers flowed from him, back to where they all belonged. And he felt like his old self again. He found he did not feel less of a person, but felt right . . . just right. Except for a profound feeling of guilt, which he accepted as right, as well.

"Thanks, Hank," Presto said, smiling. "I thought I'd never do magic again!" He reached inside and threw out of a handful of glittering confetti. Uni shook off what landed on her.

Bobby let go of Sheila to test his club, and then behind him, Hank saw Sheila pull the healing net from where it had been tucked in her belt at her back. _The net! I never had the net!_ For a split second, he wanted to be angry, but then he only laughed to himself. All along he'd thought he'd had all the powers. Like any bad guy, even Venger, he'd overlooked something. And that was how Venger's monster-horse had been healed. Sheila had done it. And now he saw her unfold it and knew she was about to use it to heal Venger! Inwardly, he fought himself not to rush over and stop her. It was quite a struggle with himself. As much as he didn't want to leave Sheila in Venger's presence, he decided it was probably best not be around when he woke up. He let Dungeon Master lead them away.

* * *

Sheila didn't care how it looked to anyone, she wasn't going to abandon him. After all, he had saved her life. Twice. She watched as his flesh turned from black to pale blue. The cloth, or whatever it was, came back together to cover him.

Suddenly, she felt the urge to look over her shoulder. "Dungeon Master!" she said as loudly as she dared. She was surprised to see him there. She felt like her father had just caught her out after curfew, and with a boyfriend. She felt her cheeks flushing and hoped Dungeon Master didn't notice.

"He is healing well, I see. Thank you, child," he said in a placid tone.

"It's lucky Hank forgot about the net in the Dragons' Graveyard. And it's lucky I found it."

"It is that," he agreed.

"It's not over, is it? Venger will never forgive Hank for Shadow Demon's death."

"Perhaps if you give him this. . . ."

He handed her a folded red cloth, which she unfolded out of curiosity. When she saw the black squirming bit of shadow, she gasped and quickly folded it again and set it on the ground beside her, not wanting to touch it more than she had to. When she looked up again, Dungeon Master was gone.

* * *

Venger was in a dim place, and Tiamat lurked somewhere. He hadn't seen or heard her, but he _knew_ she was there. If only he could see! He had no power here. He was as weak as any common mortal. He felt his way around rocky corners, palming cold stone and straining to see in the darkness.

And then he saw the dragon queen. A black silouette. Before he could react, she blew black fire straight at him. It hit him cold, freezing. He couldn't run; his muscles wouldn't move. He was too cold. He fell. So cold. Frozen agony. Darkness.

And then there was warmth, warmth flooding his chest. And then he could see a hazy halo of fiery orange blossoming into view.

He bolted upright, only to be stopped by a pale and fine hand — a woman's hand. He looked around. There were the Young Ones, standing far away, while beside him was the Thief, Sheila, with her hand on his chest. He looked at her in shock. Tiamat, the cold fire. . . . Was it . . . a dream? He looked down at her hand, and then back into her eyes.

She quickly removed her hand, looking fearful. He was about to ask her what had happened, but then she said, "It's over. Please just go."

Over? It was far from over! He glared toward the Ranger, whom he could see now was truly . . . just the Ranger. That, of course, did not matter. Vengeance would be his.

"Here," he heard the girl say.

He looked down curiously at the red cloth she offered him.

"This is for you," she said.

He eyed her suspiciously as he took it. Oddly, she _smiled_ at him. And then she stood and began walking away. He watched her for a moment, and then unfolded the cloth, carefully. And inside . . . a shred of Shadow Demon! He closed his mouth when he realized it was hanging open in astonishment. It would take time and care, but the shadow servant could be restored! He folded the cloth with the same care and stood, looking to the girl again. He couldn't believe what he was about to do.

"Thief!" he called out. He couldn't bring himself to use her real name, especially not where others would hear. Besides, she _was_ the Thief once more.

She turned around, and after a moment's hesitation, she returned to him.

"You . . . saved my life," he said.

"You saved mine," she replied with a coy shrug of her delicate shoulders.

Venger held out the net to her. She looked surprised. Whether it was distress from having forgotten it was with him, or from the fact that he was returning it, he couldn't tell, and it didn't matter. "Take it, and know that _you_ need never fear me again. Do you understand?"

For a second, she only looked at him in awe. Then she smiled and nodded.

There. He had done it. Now it was time to leave before he did anything else out of character for him. He mounted the nightmare and took to the night sky.

* * *

Hank watched as Sheila walked toward him. He couldn't help it. He had to ask. "What did Venger say to you?"

"He thanked me for saving his life, and gave this back," she answered, holding the net up.

He chided himself for the urge to reach out and touch it, to take it from her, even. He was surprised Venger hadn't kept it for himself.

"Is that all he said?" He instantly wished he hadn't asked her that. It sounded rather demanding when all he'd meant was to take his mind from the net. He decided to blame after-effects of the corrupted weapons.

"Mm-hmm."

He felt she wasn't telling the whole truth, but he made himself put that off on after-effects, as well.

"I'm sorry for everything I did. Can you forgive me?"

"Of course I forgive you."

"Do you think they'll forgive me?" he asked with a nod in the others' direction.

"I'm sure they will."

"I've got a lot to make up for," he said as he put his arm around her, but she just smiled and turned her head away.

His own smile faded as he turned to look up behind him to watch Venger become a speck in the distance.

_This isn't over, is it?_

And something within him answered, _No._


End file.
